


The golden necklace

by Sarah_bell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Affection, Aftercare, Biting, Chains, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dom/sub, F/M, I'm not a dom/sub expert, Love, Marking, Master/Slave, One Shot, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Proceed with caution, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Safewords, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Teasing, Tenderness, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_bell/pseuds/Sarah_bell
Summary: Sansa wears a long necklace that falls to her navel when she wants Jon to be possessive in the bedroom. Jon is initially reluctant to treat Sansa roughly, and needs some persuading. Gradually, he succumbs to her teasing and gives her what she wants. When Sansa asks Jon to use her necklace like a chain, she's thrilled to find she awakens deep, suppressed desires in Jon.





	The golden necklace

**Author's Note:**

> ***PLEASE HEED THE TAGS!***
> 
> This is rough sex people! Sansa is definitely into it - in fact she persuades Jon to engage in it - but this is only the second time I've written for this pairing, and I want to be very clear that there will be biting, growling, and Sansa following orders like a Lysene sex slave. Have I scared you away yet? If so, good! I'd hate to upset anyone, especially given Sansa's history! If not, welcome to the train to hell that is my mind!

Sansa wore high-collared dresses, and it would be easy to miss the golden necklace that sometimes graced her throat. A strand of gold hung down from the middle of the necklace and disappeared into her dress.

But Sansa knew what the adornment did to Jon. She smiled and licked her lips as she sat down to dinner. Jon was already hard, already dying to drag her to the bedroom.

Because no one else in Winterfell's great hall knew that the golden necklace hung between Sansa’s breasts, trailing enticingly down her pale skin to touch her navel. She wore it when she wanted Jon to take control, when she wanted him to be possessive in the bedroom.

Jon had been shocked at first when she’d asked. He might even have been mulish. But Sansa was as stubborn as he was, and she’d insisted, wearing him down, teasing him. She whispered in his ear during council meetings, stroking his cock under the table day after day.

Finally, one night after she’d recounted a fantasy that was taken straight from his dreams, he snapped and took her roughly, against their bedroom wall.

He hiked up her dress, finding her wet and dripping for him, just like she’d promised. He groaned and pinned her hands above her head, thrusting into her. He growled without knowing it, surrounded by her skin and her scent, drunk with the knowledge that she _wanted_ him to take her hard and fast.

It felt so fucking _good_ , to claim his wife as his. He was wild with desire, hissing _mine, mine, you’re mine_ , _Sansa._ She tipped her head back and begged, _yes, yours,_ _more, harder, please, Jon._ The white column of her throat was too enticing to resist.

He bit her neck and she peaked, coming harder than she ever had before. Her walls gripped him tightly as she screamed. He roared out her name as he spent inside her.

He was dazed afterwards, then worried, as he brought her back to the bed and wrapped her in furs. He checked for scratches and bruises, riddled with guilt over the marks his teeth had left on her neck.

Sansa sipped the water he’d brought her and snuggled into his arms. She traced the marks on her neck with her fingertips and her eyes fluttered shut. Her cheeks flushed.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Sansa?”

“Are you going to ask me that every few minutes?” Sansa teased.

Jon tucked her hair behind her ear. “Maybe.” He gestured to the marks on her neck. “Do they hurt? I never want to hurt, you Sansa, never–“

She cut him off and kissed him, gently. He returned the kiss, loving the chance to savor her. She pulled back and smiled.

She swept her hair over her shoulder exposing the marks again. “Touch them,” she said, breathless, her eyes dark. He traced them tentatively with his finger. The way she closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure made Jon’s cock twitch.

Jon swallowed. “That feels good?”

“It does. I love the marks, I love when you trace them. You’re the man who made them, the man who took me tonight. Prove it to me, Jon. Prove I belong to you when I wear this necklace.”

He’d heard about necklaces like these before, almost...chains, worn by Lysene slave girls in pleasure houses. He’d always been gentle with Sansa, but he was a man, after all, and the idea of Sansa serving him spoke to something deep and primal inside him. He wound the chain around his wrist.

“Tug it,” she said, and whined, parting her lips when he did. “Hold the chain above my head while I suck your cock.”

“Gods, Sansa,” he groaned. She thought of it as a chain too, his sweet wife? “What are you trying to do to me?”

Her mouth was already on him. He almost dropped the chain, aching to bury his hands in her hair. But he remembered what she wanted, and he was rewarded when he held the golden chain above her head. She hummed around his cock and took him deeper. He tugged experimentally and her eyes rolled back. She moaned as she sucked and licked, and he had to fight to keep from coming in her mouth. She let go with a pop, opening her eyes again.

Jon’s mouth was dry. He was painfully hard, and his beautiful wife was on her knees for him.

“Good?” 

“Gods yes, so good, Jon. Tug it harder.”

He worried about hurting her when they played this game, until she assured him she’d call out a specific word if she wanted him to stop.

As the weeks went by, he began to revel in how he could control her movements, how eagerly she responded. He learned she liked him to lead her around the room, pulling the chain flush with the wall so she had no choice but to lean against it while he ravished her. She liked it when he gave her orders, _sit down, suck me, on your knees_. Now when she bared her neck he bit her instinctively, and her cries of pleasure were loud enough to wake the castle.

Sansa loved all of it, and her passionate response roused the animal in him. _Mine, she’s mine, mine to control_. He began to enjoy the weight of the chain in his hands. Just the feel of the metal between his fingers aroused him, reminded him of what came next, how his sweet girl would suck his cock or spread her legs with a word and a tug.

He was taken off guard when she confided she wanted to go further. They were tangled together on the bed, hot and sweaty. She nibbled on the cheese he made sure was in their chambers. She was often hungry after their...sessions together, he wasn't sure what to call them.

“I love you, Jon.”

Jon brushed his lips over her hair. She’d opened up a whole new world for him, and his heart was full to bursting.

“I love you too sweet girl, my lady wife.”

She kissed his cheek. “Those words are nice, Jon but on nights like these...”

“Yes?”

Her eyes were bright. She reached down and started stroking his cock, just the way he liked it.

He groaned, then grinned at her. “Minx.”

“Yes, minx, I like that better tonight.” She bit his earlobe and he twitched in her hand. He was at her mercy.

“I want different names tonight Jon, will you say them for me?” Her breath was hot on his neck and he was bucking into her hand. He’d promise her the moon now, and she knew it.

“Anything Sansa, anything,” he rasped.

She sucked on his neck, bringing him closer and closer, until another few strokes of her hand would make him peak. She leaned close to his ear.

“Call me your whore, Jon.”

Any other moment and he would have stopped, pulled back, protested. But he was on the edge and he’d fantasized about it, more than once, especially when she was on her knees for him, sucking his cock like she was born to it, her red lips moving up and down his shaft....

“Fuck,” he panted, “you’re my whore, Sansa, my dirty little whore, gods!” He spilled on the sheets, feeling faintly ashamed.  Sansa licked his cock clean. She kissed her way back up his body, smiling that secret smile. “I think my lord’s thought about that on his own, once or twice.”

Jon flushed. “Perhaps.”

“Hmmm.” She rested her head on his chest, toying with his hair. “I’d tell you what else I want to be called...” She reached up and kissed him, hard, and he cupped the back of her head. She was smiling when they broke apart. “But I think I want you to call me the names _you’ve_ dreamed about, when I serve you tonight. Can you do that for me?”

He caught it, the hint of shyness behind her seductive smile. He gathered her in his arms. She was so brave, here in the bedroom and elsewhere. He’d do anything to please her, to ease her fears.

“I will, love, I promise. Do you know how glad I am to be married to you? How much I love you?”

She hummed happily. “I do Jon. I love you too. Will you tell me what to do? Please?” She touched the chain and he took it from her, tugging on it.

“Kiss me again,” he ordered, his voice deep, and she did, instantly, opening her mouth, coaxing his tongue inside. He found long pulls on the chain made her gasp and squirm, and gods help him but he _loved_ the power she gave him.

He pulled her away from his mouth. His mind was fogged with lust. He drank her in, his wife, her red hair spilling down her back, his golden chain around her neck, writhing on his lap like a....

“You’re mine, my slut, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

Sansa mewled and fisted his cock. She nodded.

Another tug on the chain. “Say it.”

“Your slut, mas- my lord.” She ducked her head.

Jon felt a shock of pleasure go through him. Had she almost said...? That word appeared only in his hottest, filthiest dreams, ones where he woke trembling, on the cusp of peaking.

Fuck, he wanted to hear her say it in her low, soft purr. 

And he could make her do it.

He pulled the chain again, bringing her down to his chest. “You know your place, slut, good girl.” He stroked her hair, then leaned in to her ear. His heart was pounding. “Call me master.”

She shivered. Her eyes were shining. “Yes, master.” She sounded breathy, needy, as she sat there awaiting his orders. Hearing _master_ from her sweet lips brought out his deepest urges to possess her, own her. It was easier and easier to fall into his role, to dominate her, to give in to his own dark impulses. He wound the chain tighter.

“Good girl. Play with your nipples.” She pinched them, putting on a show for him. If only the other lords knew what the ice queen of Winterfell would do for him in their chambers, how she’d touch herself like a Lysene slave at his command. He growled low in the back of his throat. When he slipped his hand between her legs, she was dripping.

“Such an eager like whore, aren’t you?”

She whined and ground down on his hand.

“On your hands and knees, slut. Show me what’s mine.”

“Yes master.” She was there in an instant.

He pulled on the chain and she wiggled her hips.  His cock was rock hard.

“You don’t move until I tell you to,” he growled. He kept the chain in one hand as he teased her entrance. She pushed back onto his cock, begging, “please, master, more-”

He yanked sharply. “No. Not yet.”

She stopped immediately and he groaned, intoxicated by how quickly she obeyed him. Though she had moved before he told her to...another fantasy crept into his mind and he smacked her ass.

She yelped.

“That’s for disobeying me.”

“Yes master, I’m sorry.” She was squeezing her legs together.

“Better. You look like a bitch in heat, sweet girl, here on your knees, barely able to wait for me.  Say it. Tell me what you are.”

She responded before he could pull the chain, as if she’d been aching to say the words all night. “Yes, master, _yes_ , your bitch, I need you, so badly, need your cock to fill me up and make me yours, please-”

He lost control then, dropped the chain and grabbed her hips, riding her like an animal, like...a wolf.

Sansa was moaning, incoherent, he could feel her fluttering around him. Fuck, yes, _his_ , his woman, his-

“That’s it, she-wolf, take it, you love it, don’t you, being fucked on all fours, like the bitch you are. Touch yourself, I want you to peak when I spend inside you.”

Her hand flew to her cunt and she stroked, struggling to stay upright as he slammed into her. She leaned on her forearm as she begged. “Yes master, I’ll take it, any way you want it, only give me your seed, _please_ -”

He growled, mesmerized by the flash of gold on her neck. His slave, his little whore.

“Peak for me first. Peak for you master, show me you deserve it.”

Sansa cried out and collapsed, her walls clenching, and he came with one last rough thrust, spending deep inside her.

***

He held her close afterwards, stroking her hair. He was sated and the woman he loved was in his arms. He kissed her, calling her _my lady_ and _my beautiful wife_. He wasn’t ready to give up those terms of endearment and neither was she.

Though she did make him promise, the next time she wore the necklace, to tie a scarf over her eyes. “You’ll like it, I think,” she said, teasing, and he couldn’t help but laugh, because he knew she was right.


End file.
